the ground. She contemplated this
tree for a while that seemed to me interminable; it reminded me
of a setter pointing game it winded but could not see, for her
whole frame grew intent and alert. She ceased playing with the
beads and stretched out her slender hand towards me. Her lips
moved. She spoke in a sweet, slow voice, saying--

"O Watcher-by-Night, is it thus you greet her to whom you have
given strength to stand once more beneath the moon? Come hither
and tell me, have you no kiss for one from whom you parted with a
kiss?"

I heard. Without doubt the voice was the very voice of Mameena
(so well had Nombe been instructed). Still I determined not to
obey it, who would not be made a public laughing-stock for a
second time in my life. Also I confess this jesting with the
dead seemed to me somewhat unholy, and not on any account would I
take a part in it.

All the company turned and stared at me, even Goza lifted his
head and stared, but I sat still and contemplated the beauties of
the night.

"If it is the spirit of Mameena, he will come," whispered
Cetewayo to Umnyamana.

"Yes, yes," answered the Prime Minister, "for the rope of his
love will draw him. He who has once kissed Mameena, _must_ kiss
her again when she asks."

Hearing this I grew furiously indignant and was about to break
into explanations, when to my horror I found myself rising from
that stool. I tried to cling to it, but, as it only came into
the air with me, let it go.

"Hold me, Goza," I muttered, and he like a good fellow clutched
me by the ankle, whereon I promptly kicked him in the mouth, at
least my foot kicked him, not my will. Now I was walking towards
that Shape--shadow or woman--like a man in his sleep, and as I
came she stretched out her arms and smiled oh! as sweetly as an
angel, though I felt quite sure that she was nothing of the sort.

Now I stood opposite to her alongside the fire of which the smoke
smelt like roses at the dawn, and she seemed to bend towards me.
With shame and humiliation I perceived that in another moment
those arms would be about me. But somehow they never touched me;
I lost sight of them in the rose-scented smoke, only the sweet,
slow voice which I could have sworn was that of Mameena, murmured
in my ear--well, words known to her and me alone that I had never
breathed to any living being, though of course I am aware now
that they must also have been known to somebody else.

"Do you doub